


A Deck of Luckies

by troq



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Grinding, In Public, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, cum as lube, handjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-08
Updated: 2014-03-08
Packaged: 2018-01-15 00:27:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1284412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/troq/pseuds/troq
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles blinked for a moment before realizing he had on Derek’s infamous leather jacket. The one he usually trotted around in with his hands hidden from the world in those stupid little pockets. (Hot Pockets. Heh. Stiles would have to write that one down later.) Well, he knew he had it on, but didn’t know if that made sense. And here he was, with one hand in a pocket and the other holding his cigarette.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Deck of Luckies

A slackened, yet short amount of time had come and gone since his father was laid up in the hospital, but the vices of Stiles’ comfort and desolation still held a prevalent place in his life. A habit brought upon by a period of overwhelming sadness and contempt, the latter of which was aimed at himself. This newly formed addiction (he abhorrently denied the use of such a word) was his primary weapon against the feelings of emptiness he felt when he almost lost his second parent - his father. He never thought a person could feel truly empty, because how can you feel nothing? It was like multiplying zero by any number and expecting something other than zero to be the result.

Smoking, of all things. He really could not be any more cliché.

And it wasn’t as if Stiles was sad anymore. No, he definitely wasn’t. Sure, his father was shot through the chest three times by a stupid, petty thief who just wanted a bit of cash to get by and nearly ruined the life of a teenage boy by making him re-live the pain and suffering associated with losing (in this case, almost losing) a loved one, especially a parent, but he wasn’t sad now. And yet, when it was all said and done, the instrument he once used as a buffer for that sadness was still there. He couldn’t stop. 

So there he was, smoking in the middle of a park on a rickety swing set, with not a single ounce of pain in his heart. He was fine. He was content. 

He was an idiot.

The gaseous substance wafted through the boy’s mouth and spiraled back out again into the air and he was met with angry glances from the parent’s of children whom were playing in the public area. The little brats just wanted to swing, but lord knows the mothers wouldn’t let them sit next to a smoking, awkward grown boy who chose a seating arrangement that was probably more suited for a five year old rather than himself. It was practically an ass-corset, if he were to be honest. But oh well. Luckily the sun was already setting so they’d be gone in no time.

He flexed his knees back and forth, kicking off the ground slightly to get a bit of momentum. Nothing crazy, just a small bit of swinging so that his feet dragged across the dirt filled hole beneath him. The seat itself creaked with every motion and the chains connected to the top squealed as metal rubbed against metal. Then, the sound multiplied as if ghosts were riding along next to him in the other swings.

Nope. Just Derek freaking Hale, being as creepily quiet as always, swinging next to the teen looking while highly uncomfortable and a little too pedophile-ish in that tiny little seat that made him appear even bigger and badder than usual.

"Jesus Christ, Derek. Would you stop that? Do I need to strap a collar on you and put a bell on it? ‘Cause I’ll do it." 

Derek looked at the younger boy with a raised eyebrow and an incriminating look on his face.

"Why are you smoking with _my_ jacket on?"

Stiles blinked for a moment before realizing he had on Derek’s infamous leather jacket. The one he usually trotted around in with his hands hidden from the world in those stupid little pockets. (Hot Pockets. Heh. Stiles would have to write that one down later.) Well, he knew he had it on, but _didn’t know_ if that made sense. And here he was, with one hand in a pocket and the other holding his cigarette. 

"Hi, Derek! How was your day? You’re looking dapper as usual. My day was fine. Woke up, ate breakfast, masturbated, masturbated again, got dressed, came here, starting talking to this one grumpy werewolf I know. Same old, same old, you know?"

"Stiles."

"Okay, so I didn’t masturbate twice. Only once. You caught me."

"The jacket, Stiles."

"I don’t know. It makes me look cooler? It was the first thing I grabbed? I like wearing it because it’s yours?" he shrugged. "Not my fault you left it at my place two nights ago. Finders, keepers - Losers, grumpy-werewolf-weepers!" 

He took another puff from his cigarette and made a lazy attempt at blowing out the smoke into the form of a ring. Derek truly despised when he smoked. It was probably because Stiles was just a bit off when he was inhaling all that bullshit. Slightly darker, cockier, not one hundred percent himself. And what Derek abhorred even more was that he was slightly _into_ it. He could watch that pale boy suck on those cigarettes for hours. The way his soft, beautiful lips pressed around them and sucked. It was far too easy to think of dirty things when he watched that. And the scent of it all was what really drove him mad. It was the smell he came to love that was part of Stiles’ package deal, mixed with a raunchy, sex-driven stench. He couldn’t explain it properly if he tried, but he just knew he wanted to slam his cock into any hole he could find on the boy’s body when he caught wind of it. 

Not that he would ever tell Stiles any of that. Weakness? What’s that? So he held his tongue. And in retrospect, it probably wasn’t the best idea.

They were just about alone in the park now that the sun had set and darkness was everywhere, aside from the various drug peddlers and old women walking around with their teacup chihuahuas. Stiles glanced over at his lover, if you would call him that, and questioned what it was he even wanted. Derek Hale never went anywhere without a reason. But he didn’t bother asking. And in truth, he felt just a little bad for _possibly_ ruining his _definitely_ expensive jacket. 

With a guilty conscience and an apologetic demeanor, Stiles got off the seat and dragged his feet over to where Derek was on the swing next to his. Not saying anything, he turned his body so that his back was facing the werewolf’s and slouched over so that he was sitting atop the older male’s lap now.

"Sorry. I won’t do it again, okay? Promise."

That smell. It was even stronger now that Stiles was on top of him, breathing his air, speaking to him. He almost couldn’t stand it and his body stiffened as a side effect. He wanted nothing more but to take his mate here and now. Reach his hand around his waist and slip his hand into the teen’s pants. To play with his cock out here in the open. To make him cum in such an indecent place and hear his moans echoed throughout the empty park. His own cock twitched at the thought. Pressed against the fabric of his jeans, yearning to be pleasured. 

And it didn’t go unnoticed by Stiles.

"Uhhh … is that the Statue of Liberty in your pocket or are you just really, really, really happy to see me?" He chuckled and was met with no reply. The brooding werewolf simply clenched his teeth together, tightening his jaw as the pale boy lifted the cigarette up for another inhale. 

Before the nicotine-laced stick could cross his lips, the older of the two brought his hand up and snatched the cigarette away, then threw it to the ground. He skated downward to Stiles’ crotch before he could protest and immediately tugged at the jeans with enough force to pop the button right off.

"Woah, Derek. Calm down there, pup. I’m sure we can settle this in a more … appropriate setting, don’t you think?" he said, slightly exasperated with a tinge of amusement, as the other didn’t listen. He simply dragged down the zipper that separated himself from his mate’s cock with ease and slipped his fingers in. "Come on, there’s people around … ish."

"I need you to stop smoking," he replied in a cold tone as he guided himself to underneath Stiles’ underwear, where he grasped at the boy’s limp cock. "I _really_ need you to stop."

It half sounded like a plea, and half like an order. Stiles wasn’t sure which to interpret it as. All he knew was that his sex god of a partner was rubbing the head of his cock with his thumb and he didn’t really want to think about anything else. When a droplet of pre-cum surfaced and slid under the tip of Derek’s finger, coating the sensitive top, he couldn’t help but to moan a bit. 

"D-Derek …" was all he could muster. His cock was already half-hard and he tried to protest by putting his hand on Derek’s wrist, but did nothing more. He just held it while the older boy’s hand moved across his length, stroking and pulling. It didn’t take long for his cock to be visibly and fully erect, to the point where he was worrying about bystanders walking by and calling the cops. It would be so fun to have your father arrest you for having sex with an escaped murder convict in the middle of a public park. Sarcasm intended. But at least the night had fallen and no one was in the general area … for now.

Before he knew it, he was practically lying on Derek now, his head fallen back onto his shoulder and his body sprawled out wantonly on his lap. He was fucking Derek’s hand, right there, wide in the open. His hips swayed back and forth and he rubbed his clothed ass against the Alpha’s hardened cock, which was still buried under what seemed like a mountain of jeans. At this point, the rickety old swing set was making an embarrassing amount of squeaky noises and Derek was using his free hand to pull down the material covering Stiles’ ass. Once that feat was accomplished, he started to work on his pants — fumbling a bit to unbutton them with only three fingers while simultaneously working on Stiles’ cock, but he finally managed to.

With a whine from his mate, he stopped jerking the aching length for a moment to move Stiles over a bit so that he could slip his own cock out so that it could rest somewhere between those pale ass cheeks.

"Aw. C’mon. Don’t stop. Alllllllllmost there. Keeeeeep going," Stiles managed to breathe out, wrapping his hand around Derek’s to guide him back to his leaking dick. Stroke after stroke and his breath was becoming short. "I- … Derek … I’m-…" With every pass of his ass on Derek’s cock, he could feel the pre-cum rub around, making it that much easier to grind against him. His toes began to curl and his eyes closed tightly when the pleasure shot through him and he started to cum. 

The hot, white seed poured out of his cock and into Derek’s hand, one spurt after the other. His breathing was now playing partner in crime to his moans and his legs were becoming weak like jelly. Even his mind felt like it was being shot up with a special dose of morphine by the time he was done. 

When he finally opened his eyes, thanks to Derek shifting around, he saw the older man’s hand go behind him, still covered in his cum. With an ounce of wonder floating around in his brain but not an ounce of willpower to move, he waited for Derek to reveal his secret, evil, maniacal master plan to him. And then, the answer was clear. Derek slicked up his cock with his lover’s cum, using it as a form of lube. With that, he moved Stiles forward a bit, who had no ability to disagree at the moment, before he pressed the head of his cock against the pale boy’s hole.

"Derek. Don’t you think public masturbation on a surface where 50 plus children swing every day is already gonna land us in a deep enough pit of Hell?" 

Silent as ever, Derek did not reply. Slowly, he started to make shallow, upward thrusts into the boy and was met with a slight whimper.

"Yes? No? Maybe so? I didn’t know I was dating a mute here. Kinda ruins the whole howling werewolf thing."

Again, no reply, and by this time he was balls deep in his lover. He looked down to see his ass slapping up and down against his thighs, his cock disappearing with each hard thrust and the cum turning a brighter shade of white as he went. He couldn’t help himself. His thrusts were faster, harder, and deeper than ever before and it showed in Stiles’ voice.

"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my _God_." 

As Derek reached his breaking point, which didn’t take very long at all thanks to the heavy petting session moments ago, the swing set started to whine in the dead silence surrounding them. He practically jack-hammered his way into his mate, who was trying to maintain what little composure he could scrape up. Through the near-violent thrusts and that intoxicating smell that was still trapped in his nostrils, Derek came inside of Stiles. The cum pumped in as he halted his motions and his vision became blurry from the force of it. Even his breathing trembled a little when the last pump came and he could feel Stiles’ ass clench around him in arousal. 

"Stop. Smoking. Stiles."

———————————————————————————————————————-

It had only been a week since that two person party happened in the park and Stiles was just about pushing his luck now. It had seemed he found the secret, or Scott did anyway, to Derek Hale’s penis. 

_”… and man, it was F-A-N-T-A-S-T-I-C.”_

_"Dude, I really didn’t need to know any of that. And what is wrong with you?! A children’s park?!"_

_"Don’t be such a fun sucker, Scott. Nothing worse than what you used to do with Allison. Sad that I know that."_

_"Heh … yeah," he said with an incredibly dopey grin._

_"Stop thinking about it."_

_"Fine. And anyway, why’d he keep telling you not to smoke? I mean, I don’t like it either. But it’s kinda weird he didn’t say anything to you but not to smoke."_

_"… Scott, I think you just stumbled upon the gold mine. I could kiss you. I could literally stick my tongue down your throat. Like, right now. In front of everyone, you beautiful man you."_

And that was sort of it. Ever since that conversation with Scott, he had been spending an ample amount of time with Derek. Testing him, so to speak. And the tests all came back positive. The secret, you ask?

Stiles smoking is to Derek Hale as Viagra is to old men.

———————————————————————————————————————-

_Monday_

Stiles calls Derek for a ride home after his jeep gets sent to the auto shop. Stiles pulls out a cigarette in the passenger seat, rolls down the window, and starts to smoke. Derek broods for a bit before finally driving off onto the side of the road, then plucks the stick from Stiles’ hand and throws it out the window. Derek proceeds to unbutton his pants and drags Stiles’ head down, then face fucks him until he cums down his throat.

_Tuesday_

Stiles drives out to Derek’s place, aka the rundown subway station themed hell-hole, and meets up with him. Stiles then lights up a cigarette in front of Derek and the rest of the pack, which elicits Derek to order them away. Derek then fucks Stiles doggy style (no pun intended) on one of the dirty subway seats.

_Wednesday_

Stiles stays out school, off hours, and practices a bit of his lacrosse skills alone in the field at night. Stiles calls Derek and asks if he wants to help out, and Derek obliges. When Derek arrives, Stiles quickly lights up a cigarette and Derek, just as quickly, pile drives his ass into the ground near the goal post.

_Thursday_

Stiles gets a little adventurous (some might use the word blasphemous) and calls Derek, inviting him over at his place since his father will be gone for many hours. Stiles then goes into his father’s room and lies on the bed, naked, and smoking. (He was sure to rid the room of the smell later.) Once Derek arrives, he calls him into the room, and Derek locks the door behind him before pouncing onto the bed and makes Stiles scream his name into the pillows for two hours.

_Friday_

Derek catches onto Stiles’ plan and ignores each and every text or phone call.

Whoops.

———————————————————————————————————————-

Then there’s Saturday, the present, and Stiles wishes he wasn’t so insistent on fucking Derek throughout the week, because maybe then he never would’ve caught onto his plan. He hadn’t spoken to his lover since Thursday night, but he received a text the night before reading: _”Stop smoking.”_

And that’s how Stiles remained sober for a whole 12 hours.

_Text: Okay. I’m sorry for maybe, possibly, totally using you like that. Come see me?_

No reply.

_Text: You can’t see it, but I’m frowning like a big puppy dog right now. Please, Derek?_

No reply.

_Text: I’m throwing the cigarettes in the trash right now. Come onnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn._

No reply.

_Text: Fine. Maybe I’ll just go have a nice mutual masturbation session with Isaac. He’d be totally into that, right? You’d know. You’re his Alpha. Do I have a chance?_

_Derek: I will literally grind your bones into dust, Stiles._

Before he can even answer the text with a witty remark, his window opens up and Derek is standing there, looking annoyed amongst other things. Stiles’ eyes shift around to his desk and he picks up the pack of cigarettes he said he was throwing away and tosses them into the trash, missing the basket completely as he gave a grin that said _you totally didn’t see that._

"I sent that text … from the _future_? Yeah that’s probably what happened. You know Future Stiles … he’s so wacky."

Derek was clearly unamused and it was told through his actions. He simply walked to the edge of the bed and flopped down on top of it, staring up at the ceiling as he settled in. Instinctively, Stiles went to his side and laid next to him in the exact position he was in.

"So …" he whispered to break the awkward silence.

"When’s the last time you kissed me?"

The paler boy was a little taken aback by the sudden question and didn’t know how to respond without seeming like a _complete_ jerk. So he took the Stilinski way out of it by leaning over and pecking Derek on the lips quickly, then proceeded to smile stupidly.

"Bam. Two seconds ago."

He could literally feel the fumes wafting off of Derek’s body when he inhaled and exhaled loudly, his chest heaving. Rolling his eyes and sighing loudly, the younger boy gave in.

"Okay, okay, okay. Don’t have a radioactive meltdown. So maybe I found a mind-blowing, secret way to seduce my boyfriend into having sex with me. And maybe I abused that privilege a tiny bit. And maybe … Well I don’t know what else there is but when I think about it I’ll let you know."

"Stiles, you don’t get it."

"Enlighten me, wolf boy."

"You ever think that maybe I want to have sex with you _without_ being taken over by some kind of a primal instinct to slam you into the ground with my dick?" he explained, through gritted teeth.

_Oh. That._

"Okay look, I’m sorry," he apologized half-heartedly. "I threw the cigarettes away. It’s done. It’s over. Can we move on from this, please?"

Derek huffed and dismissed it, choosing not to argue with him on this. He intended on securing the deal to quit smoking on his own terms, so it wasn’t vastly important that he do it with words. That didn’t stop him from questioning the younger male, though.

"Why would you even want me to be that way all the time, anyway? I was using you as a giant fleshlight, basically." Stiles snorted childishly at the mention of a sex toy that was was nearly positive someone like Derek Hale would have never heard of, to which Derek rolled his eyes. "I can do much better when I’m clear minded, idiot." Then Stiles’ goofy grin disappeared and was replaced with the much better emotion of _oh-that’s-fucking-hot-please-tell-me-more-sir_.

"Oh?" With a curious mind and a twisted smile, Stiles threw his body forward and quickly took off his shirt, throwing it to the floor below. Then, he started to wriggle around like a turtle on its back before slipping his sweatpants off, while Derek watched with a raised eyebrow. Next was his underwear and soon he was lying next to the werewolf. Naked. "Bombs away, Alpha Hale! Show me what ya got then."

With a loud sigh, Derek sat up a bit and removed his jacket, placing it gently on the floor. Then, the shirt came off and he laid back down, not bothering to take off his pants for reasons Stiles would soon decipher. Not that he minded, because Derek’s chest was sculpted by the Greek gods.

"Put your knees on either side of my head."

He didn’t really need to do much explaining about what position that was, because over the time they had spent together in previous months, he knew what it is Derek wanted. Or so he thought.

Diligently, he shifted his body around so that both of his knees were planted firmly on both sides of Derek’s head and his already half-hard cock was practically resting on the older man’s mouth. Blowjobs: his favourite.

"The other way around, Stiles."

It took a moment register what Derek wanted. For a split second he was confused and a little disappointed, because hey, he really wanted his dick in that mouth. But for the next second, it clicked, and he almost yelped out a laugh.

"N-No way. You’re joking." Derek shifted his head from side to side to say _no_. "Derek. C’mon. Stop messing around. Are you serious?"

"Stiles."

"Oh my God you’re completely and one hundred percent serious and wow, I love you and you’re great and you should marry me," he began muttering on and on as he turned his body around completely, but still in the same position. It wasn’t every day Derek Hale wanted to enter you with his tongue via your ass, so he was sure to savour every damned last moment.

And suddenly, it was happening, and Stiles was on Cloud Nine. His ass cheeks were being spread apart and a hot, wet tongue was being dragged across his tight hole. The tip of it flickered across the sensitive nerve endings and left streaks of wet pleasure. He thought he might pass out, and almost did, but stopped himself by planting his hands onto the bed. This was like the same Derek Hale he had come to know in the past week, devouring his ass like some kind of animal. Sucking and licking violently, only being egged on by Stiles’ loud, wanton moans. 

Then, he moved a free hand up to tug at the younger boy’s cock and the pleasure just about tripled. He stroked at it aimlessly as he dipped his tongue into Stiles’ hole, making makeshift, shallow thrusts into the tight ring of muscles.

If Stiles’ head was in his dick, it would have been blown already. Cumming would have to be the next best substitute, and he was already close to doing that. 

"Oh my God, Derek. I think my dick is literally about to explode."

Stroke after stroke and lick after lick, Stiles’ body began to shudder from the excitement and pleasure. His mind was becoming hazy as the rush of orgasm came to him and his hole tightened around Derek’s tongue. The cum shot out from the head of his dick and landed sloppily onto the Alpha’s stomach and chest, which made the paler boy groan in sexual frustration. He was just about riding Derek’s mouth like his cock at this point and didn’t care much for formalities. The leftover sensation of ejaculation made his body heighten in sensitivity, and that included his ass.

"D-Derek … as great as this is … y-you can stop now … I think I’m about to collapse," he chuckled out breathlessly, and Derek obliged. With a sigh of defeat, Stiles rolled over onto his back so that he was lying in the opposite direction as his mate. Feet by his lover's head, and his head by his crotch.

"Okay. Point made. I’ll probably stop smoking now. Might need a little bit more convincing in about five minutes or so, but I’m good for now. Yeah, totally. All good. Perfecto."

"Who said anything about giving you five minutes?" he replied immediately.

_Gulp._

**Author's Note:**

> Just a random fic I threw together in a day or two, way back when in the beginning of Season 2. Dug this hilarious mess of a oneshot up from ye old vault to inspire me to write some more! Also, if you have any fic requests, please please please comment with them! I work best when prompts are given to me.


End file.
